Atlas
by Portrait of a Scribe
Summary: "He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders." Achilles can only bear witness. ACIII drabble, no pairings, no warnings. Gen.
1. Achilles

**_Atlas_**  
_By **P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_

* * *

_"He carries the weight of the whole damn world on his shoulders. The least we can do is listen."  
-Anonymous  
_

* * *

Achilles Davenport sighs in relief as he sinks into a chair in front of his fireplace, the light from its dancing flames flickering heat across his skin. This winter has been cold, bitterly so; his joints are aching, his bad leg is paining him, and without Connor consistently here to build up a good, hot fire for him, Achilles has had to do it himself, more often than not, as of late. Myriam has been kind to him, helping out around the homestead, but on nights like tonight, Achilles wishes he had just a bit of his old, painless strength left. After all, Myriam has gone back to her cabin for the night, and the house is actually quite drafty.

Achilles hears a creak from upstairs. Then another, and then a thud and a familiar-sounding grunt. It seems as though Connor is having one of his dreams, again. Achilles shakes his head in fond worry. As quiet as Connor normally is while awake, that boy is one of the noisiest sleepers Achilles has ever met. The old man has gotten more or less used to his protégé's nocturnal noisemaking in the five or six years since Connor came to live with him; most nights, he can ignore it. But on nights like tonight, when Connor has just returned home from another taxing mission, bloodied and a little more broken than he was before, Achilles sits up and listens to Connor's soft whimpers and growls and the Mohican babbling, knowing all along that come morning he will leave his room and go upstairs to find the younger man asleep on his floor rug with his mother's necklace clutched to his chest and tear stains on tanned cheeks. Achilles would comfort him, if he could. But every man's demons are his own to battle, and Achilles has faced more than his fair share without adding Connor's into the mix.

Come morning, Connor will get up and go about his day, tired and hollow-eyed after his sleepless night, and Achilles will watch him until the younger man decides he wants to talk about it. Because even though they argue a lot, Achilles is the closest thing to a real father that Connor has ever known, and Connor is the closest thing Achilles has had to a son since his boy died years ago. And one way or another, Connor always ends up talking.

If only it would help.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Assassin's Creed. Otherwise, Altair and Ezio would have lived to the Revolution at least, because I'm all into time conondrums like that._

_Please let me know what you think. Ciao, ragazzi!_

_-Scribe_


	2. Connor

**_Atlas_**  
_By **P**ortrait of a **S**cribe_

* * *

_"They may discover him, and it will prove his death. His person can be too plainly seen by the light of that fire, and he will become the first and most certain victim."  
-James Fenimore Cooper, "The Last of the Mohicans"_

* * *

Connor Kenway dreams in red.

He dreams in red, and in orange, and in yellow, white, and every color in between. Connor dreams in flame. Sometimes, he hears his mother's last words, he smells the stench of burning flesh, he tastes the ash on the air. Other times, he remembers a burning brewery, the explosions of ale casks, feels the heat of the flames, and it is enough to make him shy away.

Still other times, he dreams of the only woman he has loved in his adult life, and he dreams of a different flame, entirely.

But those good dreams are few and far between. More often than not, his dreams consist of carnage and pain, and he wakes, thrashing, with his fist shoved in his mouth to stifle his screams. Sometimes, he wakes with old wounds aching in remembered agony, and sometimes he wakes with the salt of dried tears upon his lips. He sometimes wonders if he cries out in his sleep; if so, what does he say? Whose name does he call when he is in the clutches of his greatest fears?

Connor wonders.

When he wakes in the mornings, curled up on the rug on his floor, clutching his mother's necklace to his heart, he wonders if things will ever get better. He wonders if he will ever pass a night peacefully. It is especially bad after missions, after he has gone to the cities, gone to the battlefields, fought in the war and helped the Patriots' cause. Even though he knows in his heart that what he is doing is right, he cannot stop the nightmares that come afterwards. And it is always after those nightmares that he wonders if what he is doing is truly worth it.

He never voices these ponderings to Achilles. The old man has met Atlantow's various faces enough times as it is, without adding Connor's problems to the equation. But when Achilles comes to see him in the mornings, and Connor watches the old man enter Connor's room from where he is already awake, Connor knows that he will tell the old man eventually. It never helps the nightmares any, but he knows that telling the old man about what dreams trouble him will at least set Achilles' mind at ease. Achilles is the closest thing Connor has to a real father. Haytham Kenway does not count. And if Connor can ease the burden of an old man's troubled mind just a little, he will take that chance, even at the cost of his own comfort or pride.

He can do that, if nothing else.

* * *

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Assassin's Creed. Otherwise, Altair and Ezio would have lived to the Revolution at least, because I'm all into time conondrums like that._

_And so the last. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, and to those of you who wanted to see the second. The reference of "Atlantow" is referring to the Mohican spirit of death, who, after the introduction of Christianity, was usually associated with the devil.  
_

_Please let me know what you think. Ciao, ragazzi!  
_

_-Scribe_


End file.
